Soft Skin
by The Lillie
Summary: In which Entrapta learns about a thing called a "sleep schedule" and Hordak learns about a thing called "emotions."


Entrapta didn't like sleeping. The amount of time for research allotted to a mortal human was limited enough as it was; she didn't like spending any time doing _nothing. _But of course, scientifically, she knew sleep was vital to maintaining proper physiological and neurological function, and she definitely didn't want to do anything to impair the abilities of her brain.

She told all this to Hordak on one of their first nights working together, when she swooped up on her hair up toward the air ducts and he demanded to know why she was putting their time on hold. Since then he'd arranged for her bed to be set up in his sanctum.

Before now, when she was still sneaking around in the vents between his lab and her own, he would get some warning every night before she disappeared for a few hours. Now she just...nodded off, flopping onto the bed at almost completely random moments. Hordak experimented for a while, seeing when was the best time to wake her. So far the procedure that elicited the most productive results was just to let her sleep and wake up on her own time.

Hordak didn't sleep. He didn't eat. He worked. He didn't stop.

Except for tonight.

"Rerouting the power through the auxiliary circuitry runs the risk of reducing output altogether," he had been in the middle of saying, "but if we—"

And then there was a _flump_ and he turned around to see her facedown on her bed, one boot dangling off the edge, her hair sprawled across the pillow and headboard.

"Have you even been listening?" he snarled.

"Mnh—" Entrapta groggily lifted her head. "Of course I have! Just —hold that thought for about four and a half hours—"

Hordak strode forward and nudged Entrapta's shoulder so she lay on her back. "I begin to wonder if your sleep habits are hindering us."

"Hey, we've been through this. Optimal brain function."

"Not—" He held back a sigh, struggling to put his thoughts to words. "I don't care that you sleep. I care _how _you sleep. Four and a half hours at random times—the average human requires a regular eight to ten."

Entrapta sat up a little, rubbing her eye. "Well, I'm more into engineering and astrophysics than biology, but—I do think I learned somewhere about a thing like, first sleep and second sleep? You sleep four hours and then wake up, then go back to sleep until the sun comes up—but since there's no sun in here, I don't have to worry about that!" She yawned, still grinning. "I can just sleep whenever I'm tired and then stop when I'm bored of it."

"You shouldn't rub your eyes with your gloves on like that. It'll cause abrasions on the thin skin."

"Oh, I can't take my gloves off," Entrapta said seriously, her smile gone. "Touching things with my hands makes me antsy. That's also why I use my hair so much."

"Would you rather be antsy, or blind?!"

Entrapta scoffed and sat up straight. "I won't go _blind. _Come on—which one of us is actually a human and thus should know how humans work?"

"And which none of us has spent his life dedicated to creating lifeforms and knowing how they work? _Biology?"_

Entrapta followed his gesture with her eyes, glancing over to the line of vitrines and the clones growing inside, and he knew she knew he was right. He couldn't grow a body for himself, but he grew Imp, and he grew plenty of prototypes. He was, first and foremost, a biologist—not to mention he'd spent ages studying the native lifeforms of Etheria in order to best conscript and conquer them. At least, at first.

Now all he had left to conquer was the Rebellion. Now maybe his knowledge could be used to _help _the people here—well, one person in particular.

"Okay, I'll try to not rub my eyes so much," Entrapta relented, blinking heavily. "Aaaand I'll take whatever advice you have on sleeping right."

"First of all, take off that welding mask. And the boots." Hordak crossed his arms, firm in his command. "Anything stiff or bulky that might make you uncomfortable."

"Welp, stiff and bulky describes pretty much everything." Entrapta spread her arms and let her hair start pulling up the hem of her shirt.

Hordak spun rapidly on his heel and held up a hand to block his peripheral vision. He growled. "Don't you want me out of the room first?"

"Hm? Oh. No. I trust you."

The buttons on her shirt clacked to the floor. Hordak didn't turn around, or remove his hand from beside his eyes.

"Trust me to what?"

"Well, I mean, I've already seen you without your armor and your exoskeleton," she said, her welding mask clanking to the floor. "I don't see a reason why you can't see me without mine."

There were two loud thunks—her boots falling free—and then the jangling and rustling of her thick overalls.

He still didn't turn around. It just—wouldn't seem right. The concept was so...strange, alien, wrong. Humans were so ridiculously readily vulnerable to one another. Entrapta was so readily vulnerable.

And what's worse, she was vulnerable to him because he'd been vulnerable to her first. And he continued to be, more and more, with every moment he spent with her.

That was a weakness, logically, obviously. A liability. A danger, impermissible, unallowed.

Unstoppable.

Hordak moved his feet to turn around and fully face Entrapta.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed and focusing up at him, eyes calmly wide, shoulders hunched, hands between her knees. One leg ended there at the joint, and its lower half was replaced by a slender silver prosthesis. Her bare feet were waving back and forth in a motion that should have seemed childish but bore the secure confidence that only came with maturity. Dull white bands of fabric covered her from chest to midriff and from waist to thigh and nowhere else —besides her hands, still covered by her gloves. Her skin was almost uniformly the same dark tan as her face, but with slightly paler patches on her belly and biceps.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He had no answer to that. "Are you?"

"I feel kinda weird," she admitted. "I take my clothes off to shower and stuff, obviously, but never really just to sit around."

"It's not to sit around. It's to sleep."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that."

Without another word, she flopped onto her back and got right to snoring.

Hordak stepped back and straightened his shoulders. He would not be distracted. He forced himself to pull his gaze away from Entrapta's sleeping form and turned his back to her.

Against his will, he glanced over his shoulder.

He didn't know much about Etherian beauty standards. He knew he certainly must be fearsomely ugly, and he knew most princesses must generally be regarded as beautiful enough to garner civilian trust and respect. He also knew Entrapta didn't fit many of the standards set by other princesses. They probably found her unattractive. But he...

Perhaps "attraction" was the wrong word, but he did feel a pull to her, a reason to look at her and nothing else. Something about the soft flush of her cheeks as she snored, or the dark line of her eyelashes, or the winding purple frame of her hair. Something about the curve of her shoulders or her waist. Something about her just kept tugging his eyes to her and wouldn't let go.

He wrenched free and held his hand up as a blinder again.

He would not be distracted. He would work, and he wouldn't stop.

* * *

Four and a half hours later, she stirred.

"Don't get up yet," Hordak ordered without looking at her. "Eight to ten hours."

Entrapta made a whiny sort of groaning noise. "Fine, but you have to come over here until I fall back asleep or I'll get bored and want to move."

Hordak sighed, knowing an argument would only lead to further delay. He set down the tools in his hands and strode toward the bed. "I'll stand there for a moment, but then—"

_SKZZRT!_

He jolted, electricity crackling through his armor. His balance veered and sent him thudding into the nearest wall.

Entrapta sat up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Don't get up!" He braced an arm against the wall and pushed himself upright. The initial shock passed, but an uncomfortable static current still waved through the metal. He shook his head, and managed to ignore it enough to stand up straight beside Entrapta's bed.

"There," he said, crossing his arms. "Now go back to sleep."

Entrapta scoffed. "I didn't mean just stand and glower over me."

Still lying down, she held a hand up to him. Offering. Inviting.

He pursed his lips. If she touched the suit, the current still running through it combined with the natural electricity of her body would likely shock them both. If she wanted to have him close without getting hurt, he'd have to remove it.

Stiff and bulky described pretty much everything, anyway.

Hordak tapped a few buttons until mechanical limbs descended from the ceiling to carefully take apart the metal exoskeleton. He stepped onto the floor in just his sleeveless robe. Then, after just a second's hesitation, he removed that too, and slid into Entrapta's bed.

She lay on her side, facing him, staring at his bare chest. He mirrored her, but kept his eyes on hers.

"I can make some more adjustments on your armor in the morning," she said. "Sorry it's wigging out."

"It doesn't matter for now. You should focus on falling back asleep."

"I will," she said softly. "In a few minutes I will."

She was still staring at his chest.

"Does it hurt?" she asked. "Not having any armor on?"

He frowned. Did he look like he was in pain? Did his bare form really appear _that _weak? "Why should it?"

"I don't know," Entrapta said innocently. "I can't tell. That's why I ask. Is just being in your body alone painful?"

"It's shameful," he admitted. "It's frail and pathetic and puny—"

"I don't see anything wrong with puny."

He looked at her, and she curled her knees up to her chest and smiled. She was positively minuscule.

"I understand why you wear the armor, but that doesn't mean you need to be ashamed of what's underneath it," Entrapta said, unbending and laying her hands flat together under her head. "I think your body's incredible."

Hordak's heart rate rose, and then shook. Part of him wanted to tell her she only thought that because she didn't know what he was supposed to be, but another part realized she wouldn't care either way. Another part was too preoccupied with the pale patches on her skin to care himself.

"I—" He stopped, hesitated, pushed himself. "I return the sentiment."

Entrapta's smile crinkled the folds of her eyelids. "Thanks."

They fell silent, eye contact drifting apart—but not far. She wasn't falling back asleep just yet, but would be soon. They lay there together in the quiet, comfortable dark.

"Hey, Hordak."

It wasn't quite a question; he didn't quite lift his eyes.

"What?"

"I feel like I should kiss you."

He looked up at her.

He blinked.

"_Why?" _he asked, bewildered.

Entrapta shrugged. "Data collection?"

He blinked again. She stared at him, unflinching.

"Well, are you going to do it?" he challenged.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

The word was out before he could stop it.

Entrapta knelt up a little and wound one leg, one arm over him. Their foreheads pressed together. Then their lips.

Her lips were warm. Just warm, like any other place on a body would be. Just a touch of skin on skin, breath on breath.

Quickly Entrapta pulled away, and Hordak almost opened his mouth to protest. But just as quickly she was back, open-mouthed and fervent. Hordak arched his back and felt his hands on her, holding her hips for support; felt every curve and line and plane of her body, pressed firm but not hard against his own. He could feel the solidity of her ribs and hipbones, the light tension in her stomach, the soft weight of her breasts, the warmth of skin and the cold of metal as their ankles twisted together, her tongue dancing and curving around his mouth, searching and probing even now for…

No. She wasn't searching for anything right now. She was just kissing him.

And then, what must have been a thousand years later—though still far too soon—the kiss ended. Entrapta drew away and slumped to the side, her eyes still closed, her prosthetic leg still bent over his lap.

"Your skin feels way different from a human's," she said. The words floated lazily from her mouth like fish in a slow-moving stream. "It's sort of...cold, and smooth, and has a different kind of give. Like a...a snake mattress...s-soft…"

She was asleep again.

Hordak's pulse still hadn't steadied, but he didn't feel like trying anything to change that right now. He kept his eyes on Entrapta and didn't move. If he moved, he might disturb her.

That was just fine. He had no problem lying still here with her for the rest of the night, however long that may be. He could lie still here, with her, for the rest of everything. Forever, if she wanted.

Maybe tomorrow night she'd ask him to lie beside her again—just for data collection, just to soothe her boredom. Maybe tomorrow night she'd kiss him again.

Tomorrow.

For now, he didn't take his attention away from her skin.

* * *

The next night, Entrapta's bed was empty. His lab, all their work, was in ruins, but he was working to rebuild it. Working alone.

_Who do you think let the princesses in?_

She was long gone.

Hordak didn't mourn. He didn't ache. He didn't lie alone on her mattress and dig his fingernails into the fabric and try, try to absorb the smell of her, the proof that she'd slept there, the proof that she'd been there and that once they were there together.

_They'll just use you to get what they want._

He didn't. He worked. He didn't stop.


End file.
